


Make a Move

by carcinoGeneticist



Series: It gets better [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted suicude, Brief mentions of Iwatobi Swim Club/ Free!, Brief mentions of Star Trek, Dean is a bit out of character, Drug Abuse, Homestuck References, I made him a hugely intelligent nerd., M/M, Mild Doctor Who, Teen Rehab Center, go tumbling dean!, lol no
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carcinoGeneticist/pseuds/carcinoGeneticist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cause everybody's so scared<br/>We don't wanna go there<br/>We don't wanna make a move<br/>We've got all our lives to lose.<br/>Sitting in the dark where<br/>We just play our part<br/>I just play along<br/>Like I don't know what's going on.</p><p>Dean Winchester can't take the stress anymore. After a big fight with Sammy, he decides to end it. One failed suicide attempt and a family heart to heart later, and Dean is sent to spend six months in a rehab facility. There he meets some interesting people including a boy named Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Test my reality, check if there's a weak spot. Clinging to insanity, hope the world will ease up.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the effect of me being abandoned from all of my friends. I decided to write my first Supernatural story because of it. Why not turn a depressing milestone into a story about a depressing fandom? I found a very interesting song to use as a type of model for the story. Make a Move by Icon for Hire. Chapter titles come from there.

I was taking the coward’s way out.

 

But you can’t live like this

 

 

I need to protect Sammy.

 

He said he didn’t need you.

 

What would Dad think?

 

He would know you for what you are.

 

I am scared.

 

You are a coward.

 

I reached for the knife to my left. The more contemplation it took, the more I hated myself, but this had to be done. I was only being more of a burden. I was scared. I was weak. I was a mistake.

 

I took the knife off of the counter and into my right hand. The blade looked so inviting to me. I could see the edges of my vision blur as the first tear fell to my jeans. The bathroom walls of our current home were so mocking. They were laughing at me, egging me on to carry out my plan. Dad should be home soon, Sammy is asleep. It’ll just be the two of them now. They will be happy. They will be happier without me.  

 

Slit number one was horizontal and heavy. It simply added to the barrage of marks on my wrist. I wasn’t feeling better anymore. I had grown too numb for this to hurt. The second was light, but vertical. I carved the line of a vein and watched the blood pool over my arm. Dad was gonna kill me for getting blood on the rug. I cut again, this time deeper and longer. There was more blood, much more. Relief hadn’t fallen yet. Relief would start when my heart stopped. I kept hacking away at my wrist until I couldn’t see clean space left, but I could still see. I wasn’t done.

 

The rug was soaked even more than my jeans. The knife in my hands was starting to slip with all my shaking. But if I can only do one thing right, it was going to be this.

 

I switched hands and went at my right arm. My cuts were sloppy and random in my blind haze. I could barely see by now, thanks to my tears and light headedness. All visible skin was a sickly yellow white.

  
I heard the front door open as I fell. My dad was home, and I was dieing and he and sammy would be better off without me there. I was falling into the black. I smiled as I heard my dad desperately struggle to open the locked door. My cuts were sloppy and random in my blind haze. I could barely see by now, thanks to my tears and light headedness. All visible skin was a sickly yellow white. I heard the front door open as I fell. My dad was home, and I was dieing and he and sammy would be better off without me there. I was falling into the black. I smiled as I heard my dad desperately struggle to open the locked door. He kicked it in as my eyes closed.


	2. Try to make it look like it's all somehow getting better, 'Cause I know how to play it pretty good against the measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's day at the hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some friends proof read this for errors and they all told me that I should dumb down Dean. I decided that fuck you guys! Dean can be a smart nerd for once. Sorry for the out of character, I just really like the idea of him being a closet shipper but a huge fandom nerd on the side of his already awesomeness.

It was a blinding white; the kind that makes you forget who you are and what you’ve been doing. An annoying beep continued at a constant rate in the background of my faded consciousness. Waking up was hard. It always was when I passed out, normally from head injury or a bike accident, but something about this was different. I was weaker. It hurt more. It was more drained.

 

That was when the memory hit. The blood. The ambulance. My father. It all hit me like a lightning bolt. I shot up in the hospital bed, but not with out a silenced scream. I couldn’t speak. My throat was too dry and too cracked. My tongue was too heavy for my mouth. Everything was so clean and white and tidy that I felt inferior.

 

I needed to get a hold of myself.

 

Deep breathe, Dean.

 

I got control. Looking around, I was indeed in a hospital. Dad and Sam were passed out over each other in two chairs towards the eastern wall. The ceiling lights were so concentrated. Various fixtures screwed to the roof glowed harshly. The clean, polished tile floor didn’t aid in my craving for the darkness again. What with it’s reflective surfaces and the like. The walls were the same uninviting shade of white that the rest of the everything had.

 

I was gross. Covered in sweat and wrapped in bloody bandages, I could feel the stiches on my arm move as I did. I needed a shower.

 

_Failure._

What?

 

_You failed._

Not this again. Not the depression. Stop your whispering.

 

_You’re just mad because you know I’m right. You don’t deserve survival. You should have died. You failed at suicide. I was right. You can’t do anything right._

I hated myself. According to Sammy, he does too. Fuck! I can’t stand this anymore! Why? Why me?! Why did I have to be the one with the bitter voice in his head? Why did I have to be the one that wanted to be dead?!

 

Movement. It was my brother pushing himself off of our dad. He blinked blindly a few times. Is that what I looked like a moment ago? He saw me. All color drained from his face. He looked terrified. Was he scared? It would be a bit of a surprise considering what he had told me yesterday.

 

_He had an attitude, and he made it apparent. Kid must have had a bad day. I brushed off his brash attitude and hostility as simple cluster of emotion, from the way he threw his backpack into the back seat and slammed to car door._

_I smiled lightly at him, “Do you wanna talk about it?”_

_“Oh wow, all of a sudden Mr. Hard Ass wants to be emotional and listen to me for once. Yeah right, Dean. I’m not talking to you.”_

_Jeez. That was uncalled for. There was no need to pry. Dad was gonna be back home tonight, and I’m sure that Sammy would get over what ever was eating him._

_He didn’t._

_He continued to snap and yell and accuse._

_That was when he took it too far._

_He called me needy, said that my depression and insomnia were cries for attention. He said that I was just a desperate emo teenaged boy looking for someone’s shoulder to cry on._

 

_He went on to tell me how useless and unneeded I was before screaming that he hated me and slamming his bedroom door._

_I started to cry, how weak, knowing that he was right. And just like that, the feeding whispers became distant shouts. They slowly became louder and louder as minutes passed and more tears fell._

_I grabbed the knife from the kitchen and locked myself in the bathroom..._

The nurse walked in and removed me from my temporary mental flashback.

She was a short blonde woman in her mid thirties. Her hair was up in a messy bun. Red lipstick was applied in a clean layer over her obviously chapped lips, and bright blue eye shadow, creating an unwanted contrast, was spread in mass heaps over her sagging eyelids. Her skin is a pasty white, wrinkled, and caked with an obscene amount of foundation. She was wearing the standard blue set of scrubs with basic black bifocals sitting loosely on the bridge of her nose. She was a bit on the chubby side. Getting a good look at her, she kind of had the body shape of a tree stump.

 

“Alright, Dean! My name is Nurse Winters. I was assigned to preside over you for your time here at Blue River Community Hospital. You’re a lucky kid! The normal person would have died at the amount of blood you lost.”

 

Her voice was high-pitched and rather squeaky.

My father begins to stir awake beside Sam. He is avoiding looking at me.

 

Nurse Winters perks up, “Oh, you must be Mr. Winchester! You’re lucky you got there in time!”

 

She laughed light heartedly. This woman is entirely too oblivious to the obvious tension in the room.

 

“Well, Mr. Winchester, I need to speak with  you out in the hall. Don’t worry, it will only take a minute,” she stands outside of the doorway waiting for dad to follow her.

 

He glances at me. It wasn’t him shooting looks in my general direction, like Sammy was, but he looked directly at me. His cold brown eyes clashed with my wide green ones. A mixture of disappointment and fear masked his face as he walks past the bed and out the door. There was a slight glimpse of relief.

 

Little Sam was still avoiding eye contact. He also hadn’t spoken a word.

 

The silence was so loud, I quickly grew a headache. It was even tuning out the heart rate monitor. It was a loud rumble with stiches of static coursing through it. Everything was too quite. Everything was too new.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

His airy voice cut through the vibrating like an arrow being fired from a bow.

 

It was a welcome relief.

 

“Dean, I’m so sorry. If I had any idea, I would’ve…” He trails off into silence.

 

Even from my bed, I could see his shoulders hutch as he took in a deep breath.

 

I remained silent.

 

He turns to me again with tears in his eyes as he speaks, “Dean, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t know you were like this.” He walks toward me and glances down at my bandaged wrist. “I’m sorry.”

 

I wish I could say something to him. I wish I could tell him that it wasn’t his fault and that he shouldn’t blame himself. But it didn’t feel right. There was nothing to say to convince him that it’s okay. I attempted, and failed, to kill myself after Sam and I had fought. He was always going to blame himself, and there was nothing I could say to benefit the situation.

 

I said what came to mind in my desperation.

 

“It’s gonna be okay.”

 

He looked up at me again. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but dad opened the door before the words came out.

 

Sam wiped his tears instantly.  He was such a softie.

 

Sam is such a weird kid. One simple wipe,  and there is no single trace of tears. He used it to get our mother to take his side in our childish arguments.

 

Tears are a sign of weakness to our father.

 

Dad turns to me. As most times, his emotions are being shielded by the warrior façade he is so intent on upholding when around Sam and me.

 

“Six months.”

 

I was being sent away. We both knew where I was being sent before anything needed to be said, _Mathew Masters Home for Troubled Teens._

 

That was it. The room carried that same screeching silence as before, but this time, dad was there. He was at my bedside. I don’t exactly remember how he got to me. Everything was blurred with static. His hand grabbed my arm and threw back into reality.

 

“Dean! It isn’t that bad! It’s only six months…” His voice continued to sound as though he was trying to convince himself more than me.  “It’s gonna be okay Dean. Sam and I will visit as often as possible and be there for you. Everything is going to be okay.”

 

Speaking of Sam, he was pale as a ghost in the corner of the room.

 

Why the fuck was I freaking out so bad? I am a goddamn _Winchester!_ Six months in a rehabilitation center was nothing to me!

 

_Liar._

Yeah, I am. Six months in a foreign place where no one knows me except for Megan fucking Masters can lead to some extremely stressful situations. What if I have to stay there even longer? What if I go insane? What if-

 

_Why does it matter?_

Ugh… Can you shut up for a minute please? I’m trying to self-loath.

 

_But isn’t that exactly what got you into this mess? You couldn’t handle your self-hating and that shitty excuse for a pity party that you’d built around your self. You’re a disgrace and are better off dead. Oops, I forgot. You failed at that._

**_Fuck! Shut up!_ **

 

There was a hand on my shoulder. It belonged to my father.

 

“The nurse says that our presence here is not going to help you relax, so she’s seeing us out. I’m sorry Dean, I really am, but your little brother and me can’t stay for much longer. They’re keeping you here over night, and we’re gonna come see you off in the morning,” he pauses in thought. “How about this, I’m gonna go out to the truck and get your lap top, and that’ll give you something to do.”

 

He walked/trudged out of the drab white hospital room, seemingly genuinely shaken up by my failed suicide attempt. I hadn’t wanted this. I hadn’t wanted to even be _alive_ for this.

 

Sam sat down again. He was staring up at one of the light fixtures hanging on the roof. If I hadn’t known better, I would say that he’s the one that belongs in the loony bin.

 

“Six… Months…” He was muttering to himself.

 

“What?”

 

“Six. Whole. Months.”

 

Oh fuck….

“Yeah Sam, just some quality bonding time with you and dad,” I tried playing it off as though the situation was better than it actually was. “…Without me.”

Sam’s demeanor switched from shocked to angry in record time. “Dean, I don’t wanna be without you.”

“Well it looks like you don’t have a choice now!”

 

 

Sammy sighed audibly, “I was the one that made you suicidal.”

 

 

“Sam! I was suicidal prior to our little altercation and I’ll be suicidal long after! If you paid the slightest amount of attention to any argument father and I had had, you would understand that I’ve been battling with anxiety, depression, and an eating disorder. I’ve been cutting since my seventh year in grade school.”

 

 

_Well, well, well. Dean Winchester has let his expanded vocabulary seep out of that unfiltered cavity he calls a mouth, and you actually sound intelligent for once. There goes your bad boy façade_ _you were so careful not to let slip. Congratulations on your little brother’s cognizance of your natural behavior when alone._

 

 

John cleared his throat in the doorway.

 

 

Placing my black backpack on the foot of the bad, he stares at me, the sympathy and fear evident in his facial features.

 

 

He coughed a bit before speaking. “Dean, I really hate to have to do this, but me and Sam have to go. We’ll bring you dinner if you want. See you later.”

 

 

He carefully leads a frozen-once-again Sam out of the room and to the left. He glanced at me once more before putting on a fake smile and leaving.

 

 

Oh fuck no; I’m not sitting in this hospital room watching reruns of old soap operas when I have a laptop within arms reach. I snatched the black bag off of the edge of the bed and flipped it open. It hurt to stretch out my arms like that, but Tumblr was calling me name.

 

My super secret password, being password, was typed in rapid speed to access my desktop. There was a specific reason that Sam wasn’t _ever_ able to use my laptop. Regardless of what people thought of me, I am a huge nerd. One of the few things I take pride in is my endless supply of common fandom facts.

 

As I waited for Chrome to start up, I stared at the bandages. No doubt there were gonna be scars from the stitches underneath. No one told me how long I would have to keep them in, but I’m not sure if I would like to know.

 

Figuring that eight-thirty in the morning was a rather impractical time for hoping Dad and Sam would arrive soon, I needed to find a way to kill time. Tumblr was the best time shredder, not to mention Welcome to Night Vale had gone through a few updates in my dormancy of the fandom. I also had a few movies in my iTunes library.

 

Why was chrome taking so long to load? Oh shit. That’s right. I don’t have Wi-Fi.  Nurse Winters walked into the room with a tray of gross looking food moments later. This woman’s timing was impeccable.

 

“Hiya, Dean!” Her cheeriness was becoming overwhelmingly annoying.

 

I smiled as politely as possible and hoping that it didn’t look too forced, “Hey.”

 

Time to put on that Winchester Charm.

 

Her smile widened, “How ya doin’?”

 

“Great! But, I do have one question.”

 

“And what would that be, sweetheart?”

 

“Does this hospital have Wi-Fi?”

 

No sense in beating around the bush. I wasn’t going to be here for more than a day, so why should it matter if she finds my direct behavior offensive. I should apologize for that.

 

“Of course! Our guest Wi-Fi is something like ATT345 something. The password is ‘I am a patient.’ You type it as though you would write it for an English paper, period included. I brought you breakfast but, I can understand if you don’t wanna eat. Lunch is at 12:30, and guessing from what your father had said, he will be bringing you dinner. If you need anything, there is a big red button on the right side of your bed. Other than that, aside from the occasional check up, I’ll be out of your hair!”

 

_Just because I’m rather curious myself, try asking her about your little stitch marks, dumbass._

Dick.

 

“Nurse Winters,” I questioned, “How long should I leave these stitches in?”

 

She stopped to look at me before contemplating her answer, “Well, due to the extremity of the wounds, your doctor had decided that eleven days would be the appropriate amount of time for the wounds to seal. The nurse at the correctional facility will remove them for you. Anything else?”

 

“No I think that’s it. Thank you.”

 

“Alright then, remember the button. I’ll be back to check on you in an hour.”

 

She dismissed herself, leaving me to my thoughts.

 

Aside from various rumors, I didn’t know much about where I was going. Nothing makes me more nervous than not knowing where I am or what I’m doing.

 

_Especially alone might I add?_

Fuck. You. Or me? I’m not even sure anymore!

 

Chrome loaded quickly after jumping onto the Wi-Fi. This hospital must have a huge broadband service considering that I can’t be the only person here and technology is really the only form of entertainment if you aren’t some old man recovering from a heart attack.

 

I clicked the search box and typed the name of the rehabilitation center: “Mathew Masters’ Home for Troubled Teens.”  The ‘correctional facility’ was built back in 1994. Apparently, he had some primitive dream that his daughter was gonna be a bad child or something like that. It’s kind of depressing because, he was right. I used to go to school with Meg. She was a nice kid up until middle school. That was when she cut off her hair and changed her entire personality. She ditched, cheated, stole, and just about everything that wasn’t a capital offence. Meg was in and out of her daddy’s personal prison. If we hadn’t parted ways on such negative terms, I would be excited that I get to see her.

 

The schedule is actually pretty rough if you think about it. Breakfast is from 7:30 to 9:00. You are welcome to eat at anytime with in this period, but if you don’t make it in time you must wait for lunch, which begins at 11:30 and runs for two hours. Lunch, however, is timed in shorter limits. Lunch runs during the class time for the patients, so classes are designated to certain lunch periods. There are two lunches, A and B, each being one hour long. An hour is still a pretty long time for lunch. Classes begin from 9:30 to 4:00 depending on your schedule.

 

Classes work much like a normal school. There are timed periods of class, after which, the class is dismissed and patients have seven minutes to get to their next class. If a class, however, happens to finish it’s daily lesson, the teacher can either start the lesson for the next day or dismiss the class to wander the halls. All supplies are provided for the students, so there was no worry about not having everything. Professionals despite assumptions teach AP and Honors classes.

 

You have a lot of free will considering some of the stories I heard. You get to keep your phones, but no laptops outside of the designated room. You have to eat the food they serve, but they occasionally get catering if everyone behaves.

 

Everyone has a roommate. They’re kind of like your travel buddy that teachers gave when you went on elementary school field trips. The staff at the rehab center tries to match up people struggling with the same problems so that they can motivate one another. It’s actually a pretty good system.

 

The dorms them selves were pretty inviting. Two beds sat on either side of the room, separated by two nightstands and a dresser. A closet was off set on the other side of the room, and next to that, a wall mounted TV set. The wooden accent on the cream walls matched to polished floors. There was also a wall shelf above each bed.  From the margins, I could see the rules.

** Dorm Rules: **

  * You may customize your room, but if you and your roommate cannot agree, you must reset the room to its starting position.
  * You can rearrange furniture
  * Keep your rooms clean.
  * Dorm checks will be at random.



 

The requests were pretty simple.

 

There was a staff page on the website. I should at least have a slight interview with whom I will be dealing with for the next six months.

 

The first was a picture of an African American man.

 

 **Ellen Harvelle:** Ms. Harvelle is the discipline coach. She is responsible for every child to be safe and remain safe until the end of their stay.

_“Everyone deserves a second chance.”_

 

 **Missouri Moseley:** Missouri is the hospitals psychiatrist. She dedicates her time to having individual sessions with each  and every patient, giving them time to talk about their problems. She offers an inviting environment to everyone and is there even for just a talk.

_“Keeping your problems bottled up isn’t going to help anyone. It’s best to talk them out, and I am always here for you!”_

 

Jeez... These people are try-hards. There is no need for someone to be so overly excited about dealing with a bunch of crazy kids.

 

I skimmed the rest of the information. Bobby Singer is a teacher, there’s some guy named Michael, and the nurse is Lisa. It’s hard to judge a character based on lies.

 

After about another hour of reading bios, Nurse Winters came in to ask how I’m doing. I didn’t feel like talking. A comfortable silence took over as she replaced my bandages. It was good because the stitches were starting to itch, but I didn’t want to see the bloody ridges in my skin ripped together by thick pieces of string. She smiled apologetically when I winced about the tugging.

 

She left again soon after.

 

The rest of my morning was spent strolling Tumblr until late about 11:30. Then, I fell asleep. I guess I was sleeping until about 2:30 cause when the nurse left I had been awake for about fifteen minutes and the clock read 2:49.

 

Checking my Tumblr once more, I discovered a new fandom coming to the surface. Iwatobi Swim Club is apparently a new up and coming anime. I Google searched it, discovering that I could  watch the full episodes on some website called “Crunchy Roll”

 

Seven and a half episodes of extremely dramatic competitive swimming between shirtless anime boys later and Sammy was jumping on my bed to get my attention.

 

“Hi Dean! You seem really absorbed into your laptop, are you watching porn?!”

 

“Nice. No, well- almost no?”

 

What the fuck even is this show? Why is Haruka so obsessed with water. _“I just want to swim Free…”_ Not to mention that the not so subtle hints between a Haru, Makota, Rin love triangle and Nagisa and Rei doing their own thing with swimming, and then the butterflies, and seriously?!

 

Sam dropped his head on my pillow to see the screen. The episode had to do with Gou entering the team in a Relay swim race and then Rin deciding, ‘you know what? Nope! I’m gonna go and make an ass of myself so that I can somewhat hit on Haru in an I hate you kind of way.’ Jeez, those two have a black rom to beat them all…

 

Who all would be in Haru’s quadrants? Rin would definitely be black, Makoto red, and maybe Nagisa would be pale.

 

Why the fuck am I thinking of this? I shouldn’t be crossing romance systems from multiple fandoms. The Free! Boys are all human, and quadrants come from a grey skinned alien race. Why does Homestuck take over all of my other fandoms?

 

“Dean? Are you in there? Hello?!” Sam called tapping my shoulder. “Why are all of those guys shirtless and wet?”

 

Oh my fucking god Sam. The look on Dad’s face was priceless, however.

 

“It’s competitive swimming! I swear to god!” I shouted.

 

Dad obviously didn’t believe me. I flipped my computer around to show him Haru diving in the pool after Makota in the swimming regionals.

 

“That’s great Dean. Did you really spend all afternoon watching a bunch of anime boys swimming?” Dad’s stated jejunely.

 

Dad passed out the burgers and slices of pie before easy conversation took over the room. We spoke about movies and cars and how when I get out, my dad is going to give me his old 67’ Chevy Impala.

 

 

Speaking of the rehabilitation center, it turns out I wasn’t the only one doing research. Dad browsed the website while on brake, and Sam was asking some friends if they knew anything.

 

Sammy also befriended a new student. The kids name was Gabriel Novak. Gabriel said that he and his older siblings, Castiel, Anna, and Lucifer were all homeschooled their entire lives and moved to Colorado about six months ago. Anna and Lucifer were only here for a month before going off to college. Something happened to his older brother, Castiel, and that resulted in the remaining Novak child being sent to public school. I have no idea what could have happened to result in such a drastic change of environments for the kid, especially during his freshman-year of high school.

 

I told Sammy to make sure he was nice to Gabriel, and that this is probably pretty scary for him. Sam said he was already planning on it.

 

Dad had brought some stuff for me to take with me to the rehab. I needed a better name for it. Maybe I could build an acronym: MMHFTT. No. Let’s just call it Hell. Yeah, that could stick. The bag he prepared consisted of: My phone, my phone charger and laptop charger, many clothes, my sketchbook, pencils, erasers, colored pencils, my copies of the Star Trek and Hobbit books, my sonic screwdrivers, my toothbrush, and my wallet. Dad packed two hundred and fifty dollars neatly inside of it. This amazing man literally packed my most prized positions as well as fitting my basic necessities. And money.

 

He didn’t pack my pencil sharpener and the reason was obvious. My cuts began to itch underneath the bandages again.

 

We spoke of a visiting schedule and means of updating between Sam and me. He has to text me at 7:30 every night to tell me about what ever happened that day. Dad had no objections.

 

The nurse came in at ten to tell them that visiting hours were over.

 

Nurse Winters stopped them at the door, “We will be leaving at eight. You are welcome to stop by at seven thirty tomorrow morning to see Dean off.” She walked towards me again and began to uncoil my bandages for replacement and cleaning of the stitches.

 

“Bye Dean,” Dad said simply.

 

“Yeah, good bye Deanie-weenie!” Sam added.

 

Nurse Winters chucked under her breathe as she continued to work and rewrap the wound.

 

She turned to me with a very serious expression, “Dean, you’re gonna want some sleep, so I’m going to shut the light off. I hope you get some rest. Have a good night.”

 

She slipped out, flicking the light off as she left. It had just occurred to me that I had yet to meet the doctor. Maybe he stopped by whilst I slept.

 

With exhaustion outweighing anxiety, I drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! C:

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this sad attempt at story writing. Like and Review if you want.


End file.
